The Way It Should Be, version two point oh!
by DJRocky99
Summary: Rated PG-13 for slight language. Amusing script rewrite that'll have you hooked, line and sinker, from the beginning...please RR hehe.
1. Warning

The Way It Should Be

A _DJRocky99_expenditure…brought to you by numerous corporate sponsors who chose to remain anonymous because they've got no idea what to expect from me, a raving lunatic, and they were possibly scared by my numerous rude, insulting phone calls and fake letters full of baking soda. But please, rest assured: this story WAS endorsed by many people who make a lot of money off of different things and in different ways, none of which I can legally go into detail about.

But enough about me; this story is for you, the readers. Obviously, if I wrote this for me, I'd become terribly bored and probably not even bother. Anyway, this is DJRocky99. The woman, the mystery…please, please, if you could all just line up here, to my left, I promise to begin the autograph session in a few moments. Alright! Enough time wasted already. The point of the matter is…I'm pregnant! No, no, no. That is most definitely not it. The point of the matter is that this is NOT the original story. I gave fair warning, long ago, that I was going to systematically go through and revamp bits and pieces of the chapters.

That time has come.

Fear not! This version is actually funnier than the original! I know that may be hard to believe (and I know what you're thinking: "It wasn't funny the first time, so I should HOPE that it's funny this time!" I want you to stop thinking that immediately), but it's true. I've had at least **two** people tell me that this version is better. And that makes me happy, because I want you guys to be happy.

  
And who knows…with all this work going on, I may even add a new chapter or two. And it's about damn time, isn't it?

For anyone who hasn't made the mist…I mean, who hasn't had the joy of reading my story yet: you're in for a treat. This is my humble (ha!) little parody of what will someday, maybe, or maybe not, be known as a classic movie: _Moulin Rouge_. You probably knew that, though, if you were ambling around the Moulin Rouge category here at fanfiction.net unless, of course, I just randomly gave you a link to my story…and it looks like I'm babbling again.

The point of the matter is, there were many issues that I felt were unresolved or at the very least unaddressed in _Moulin Rouge_: underlying homo , a lack of female companionship, and lots of other problems with big words. Without directly stating these things, even though I just did, I hope that this little rewrite of the script will make you laugh AND make you think. 

If it makes you laugh, I've done my job. If it makes you think, I've done my job. But if it makes you think about _why_ you're laughing, or if you laugh because of what you're thinking, then I've done my job **well** and can expect a promotion or a bonus in this month's salary. And mommy needs a new pair of shoes.

The important thing is, enjoy your stay here. Leave your inhibitions at the door, and be sure to get your hand stamped!

**One more quick note, for those who read the original: **I cannot even begin to thank each and every one of you who encouraged my insanity and offered advice when I was in severe need of it. Well, you guys are STILL needed. I'm crazier than ever, and I'm taking another crack at this script rewrite thing. I'm going to leave the original floating around, in case there's anyone who prefers that one to this one. Either way, I hope you guys like my work as much as you used to. Also, the oft-promised ending that everyone so desire(s) will be tacked on to *this* story, not the original.

Now, go read! =)

Signed, 

_DJRocky99_


	2. Whorrific houses

Author: DJRocky99

Description: I'm a sarcastic, cynical, occasionally humorous person who enjoys making fun of other things…_Moulin Rouge _was good, but not good enough to escape my wrath…

Disclaimer: Sadly, all Moulin Rouge characters are owned by Baz.

Chapter One: Whoriffic Whorehouses (haha get it? It sounds like "horrific" but it's not…I'll stop now.)

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_There was a man_

_A frighteningly enchanted man_

_They say he hitchhiked very far, very far_

_Thankfully, not near me_

_Somewhat shy with a lazy eye_

_But almost wise was he_

_One unfortunate day_

_One unfortunate day he passed my way_

_While we spoke of many things_

_Spools and strings_

_This he said to me…_

_"The greatest thing you'll ever know_

_Is not to pay to see this…show!"___

**[Christian, as narrator]**: The Moulin Rouge. Some people called it a dance hall. Others referred to it as a bordello. But I, for one, know what it truly is: a whorehouse. No, no, not a warehouse…that's something entirely different. It was ruled over by Harold Zidler, one of THE absolute scariest men in all of Paris. This was the place where the ugly and stupid came to play with the diseased and kinky creatures of the underwear world. Yes, they all pranced about with their knickers in the air. But the most beautiful of all these creatures, which isn't really saying much, was the woman I love. Satine, a courtesan (French for "hooker") sold her body to men and her soul to the devil. They called her the "Diamond in the Rough". The woman I love is…asleep. But who can blame her?

I first came to Paris one year ago. It was 1899, the summer of tuberculosis. Err, of love, rather. I knew nothing of the Moulin Rouge, Harry Zidler, Satine, or musicals with bad plotlines and horrible endings. My life was a lot better that way, too. But I'm not bitter. Anyway, the world had been swept up in the Bohemian Revolution. I had traveled from London to be a part of it; silly me. I arrived in the village of Montmartre, which is located on a hill near Paris. I had arrived in hopes of being this village's idiot. It was _not_ as my father had said:

**[Christian's bearded father]**: A law-abiding, peaceful, crime-free village with lakefront property, nice homes, neatly trimmed golf courses, and newly built schools.

**[Christian narrating again]**: It was the home-base of the Bohemian Revolution…full of artists, musicians, bums, slobs, cheats, robbers, prostitutes, and people living off of daddy's monthly allowance. They were known as "Children of the Revolution". Yes, I had come to live a penniless existence. How, or why, I wasn't sure of…but I had. I had come to write about truth, beauty, freedom, and that which I believe in above all things…free refills! Oh, and love.

**[Christian's father once more]**: Always! This ridiculous obsession with love! And passion fruit, too! And don't even get me _started_ on this one time when the only thing he'd listen to was Olivia Newton-John's "Hopelessly Devoted to You". I mean, I'd walk into his room, prepared to tuck him in at night, and he'd be curled up in the fetal position, sobbing quietly to himself. And…

**[Christian, cutting his father short]**: Shove it, Pops!

**[Djrocky99, narrating]**: Realizing that he was wasting copious amounts of time with pathetic flashbacks into his very twisted childhood, Christian whipped out a brand-spanking-new Palm Pilot and looked up his schedule.

**[Christian, after accessing his schedule]: **Damn it! I have a hair appointment with Jean-Claude at four…and I've been on his waiting list for three months! No WAY am I going to miss this! But I still haven't fallen in love. Woe is me!

**[Djrocky99]**: Christian flailed a melodramatic arm. He knew he had to get this story over with, and quickly…because it was already noon! At that precise moment, however, the one thing his therapist told him would never happen, _did_: a midget dressed as a nun crashed through the roof.

**[Christian]**: What the hell?

**[Djrocky99]**: "What the hell" is right, because no more than 10 seconds later, a narcoleptic Argentinean kicked open his door, and tangoed in with a cross-dresser named Audrey who was sporting purple hair. 

**[Narcoleptic]**: Sorry to dizturb you, ve ever jus—oh screw it. I'm not from Argentina, and it's pretty damn hard to talk with a fake accent. Let me try again.

**[Djrocky99]**: The un-Argentinean Narcoleptic cleared his throat and tried again.

**[Narcoleptic]**: Sorry to disturb you, we were just rehearsing a play upstairs, when Henri-Marie-Raymond-Toulouse-Lautrec-Montfa crashed through the floor…or, through your roof, rather. Hope we didn't cause too much damage. Sorry if we did, because we're living a penniless existence and we can't pay for anything. Haha!

**[Djrocky99]**: Then, the Narcoleptic stuck his tongue out at Christian and righted the upside-down midget, who'd been caught by his habit on a spot of plaster that jutted out from the once-solid ceiling. The midget brushed himself off and proceeded to explain.

**[Toulouse, the midget…or something]: **It's set in Switzerland!

**[Djrocky99]: **Christian, who was in a bit of shock from this sudden appearance of a plot, stared blankly at the midget.

**[Christian]: **Pardon? What's in Switzerland?

**[Toulouse]: **The play! It's something very modern, called "Horrific Horrific!"

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A/N – Well, that was surprisingly less painful than the first time around! And a bit more put together, too. Please…R/R if you haven't yet. I'll love you forever and ever and ever and ever and the day after tomorrow, too! Thank you kindly.


	3. The Talented Mister Christian

Author: DJRocky99

Description: I'm a sarcastic, cynical, occasionally humorous person who enjoys making fun of other things…_Moulin Rouge _was good, but not good enough to escape my wrath…

Disclaimer: Sadly, all Moulin Rouge characters are still owned by Baz.

Chapter Two: The Talented Mr. Christian

Shout out: Rosemarie! It's nice to see that _someone _missed me, hehe. It's lovely to see you again. I'm glad that the story is a *little* more pulled together…and fear not, the infamous muffin-boy dialogue will be included. (But shhh! It's a secret, hehe.) 

Rewind: When we last left off, Christian had just learned of a little production affectionately known as, "Horrific Horrific!"

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**[Toulouse]: **It's a play called, "Horrific Horrific!" Unfortunately, it is time for a lunch break, and we have yet to complete writing the play, which must be presented to the financiers at one o'clock, and our lead role, played by the Narcoleptic, is currently asleep next to a cross-dresser with purple hair.

**[Audrey]: **I'm not a cross-dresser!

**[Toulouse]: **And I'm not a midget. Oops. Damn it.

**[Djrocky99]: **Toulouse would have dropped to his knees, had he not already been on them. Run-on sentences can really take the air out of a man.

**[Christian]: **I don't like your tone of voice, you little non-midget! You don't honestly think that I'm going to play the part of a sensitive Swiss poet named Goatherd do you?

**[Toulouse]: **Who mentioned anything about poets named Goatherd?

**[Christian, turning beet-red]: **Um...

**[Toulouse, taking charge]: **No matter! If you don't help us out, I'll wake up the Narcoleptic and let him tell you just how TALENTED he thinks you are.

**[Djrocky99]: **At that, Toulouse shot an ungainly and rather unmanly glance at Christian's…er…talent. Realizing he was out of options, Christian consented.

**[Christian, in a higher-than-normal voice]: **Well, shall we get to it, then?

**[Djrocky99]:** As can be expected with any cheesy love parody, Toulouse misinterpreted the meaning behind Christian's previous remark. Turning an even brighter shade of beet-red, Christian turned to leave.

**[Toulouse, enthusiastically]: **Oh, you fine specimen of manhood! 

**[Christian, irritated]: **Come on, you . Let's go upstairs already. 

**[Toulouse, grinning and giggling like a schoolgirl]: **So, it's back to my place then, is it? Hehehe!

**[Djrocky99]: **Christian trembled with nervousness at the thought of being alone in a room with a midget dressed as a nun. He thought to himself:

**[Christian, to self]: **Damn it! Dr. Wisenheimer _swore_ this would never happen. And to think I wasted $4000 an hour on that woman…

**[Djrocky99]: **No wonder he's penniless…anyway, happened it had. When the pair arrived upstairs in Toulouse's garret (French for "painted cardboard box"), they were greeted by a group of people. Many people, in fact: Audrey, the Narcoleptic, Sadie (a musician), and the Doctor (a hobo). This brought great relief to poor Christian, who was still dazed and confused from watching a Holy Midget fall through his roof. Well, he was relieved, until it dawned on him that maybe they were ALL going to tell how impressed they were with his talent. 

In an attempt to take everyone's mind off of his amazing talent, Christian decided now would be as good a time as any to burst into song.

**[Christian, at the top of his lungs]: **The hilllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllls are aliveeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee with the sound of muuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuusic!

**[Djrocky99]: **All of the Bohemians stopped what they were doing, covered their ears, and stared up at him. He grinned that patented dorky boyish grin at them. Deciding that the multitude of shattered glass was a good sign, he continued.

**[Christian, even more off-key]: **With songs they've sung for a thousand yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaars!

**[Djrocky99]: **Ugh; again with the grin.

**[Christian]: **So, what do you think? Not bad for a Scotsman, huh?

**[Bohemians, in unison]: **We thought you were from London!

**[Christian, sheepishly]: **Yes, of course I'm from London. I'm…just keeping you guys on your toes.

**[Djrocky99]: **The Bohemians rolled their eyes. Now, Audrey had spent the entire length of this scene trying to do something…ANYTHING…with his hair.

**[Audrey, frustrated]: **Oi vey, this is ridiculous! I need a drink!

**[Djrocky99]: **He/she threw the curling iron aside, right into the lap of the unsuspecting (and still unconscious) Narcoleptic. It sat there…and sat there…eventually burning a hole in his pants. This didn't bother him, for whatever reason. Suddenly, Toulouse had a bright idea.

**[Toulouse]: **Hey, I have a bright idea! Christian, you and Audrey should write the show together!

**[Djrocky99]: **Christian gave Audrey a funny look, and asked if he was really the writer of the show.

**[Audrey, with an arrogant tone]: **Yes, of course I am, can't you tell?

**[Christian, under his breath]: **No.

**[Audrey]: **What was that?

**[Djrocky99]: **Christian, who was completely terrified of this grown man who pranced around looking and acting like a woman, denied saying anything at all.

**[Audrey]: **Hey, we're out of absinthe. I'm going to run next door to the "5 and Dime" and pick a bottle or two up. 

**[Christian]: **This is 1899! In a small village in France! There's NO SUCH THING!

**[Audrey, muffled from behind the door]:** Ooooops.

**[Toulouse]: **Sigh. We do have absinthe…but I'm glad we got rid of that freak!

**[Christian, to himself]: **Hello, this is Toulouse. Hey…kettle? Yeah. You're black.

**[Toulouse, continuing]: **Well, with Audrey gone, it looks like you're our writer now hot shot.

**[Sadie]: **But how will we convince Zidler? You know how much he was looking forward to working with the cross dresser…don't you?

**[Bohemians, in unison]:** It's kind of obvious.

**[Djrocky99]: **Suddenly, Toulouse had ANOTHER bright idea. He's on a roll…there's no stopping him…hehe.

**[Toulouse]: **I've got it! We'll dress Christian up as a woman, thus transforming him into a cross dresser, and Zidler will be sure to love him! Literally!

**[Christian]: **Oh well that's just dandy. First a midget, inappropriately dressed as a nun, falls through the ceiling; okay, I can cope with that. Then, a Narcoleptic Argentinean who isn't from Argentina and probably doesn't have narcolepsy either broke down my door and tangoed over it with a cross dresser named Audrey; okay, that's an extra session of therapy I'll need. But now you're saying that you want to _dress me up as a woman and send me to meet a man who _LIKES _that sort of thing?!_

**[Djrocky99]:** The Bohemians glanced at each other and then turned back to Christian.

**[Bohemians, in unison]: **Yeah, basically.

**[Djrocky99]: **For the second time in a half an hour, Christian stared blankly at Toulouse.

**[Christian, with a shaky voice]: **Well, if that's the case…I can't do it. I can't write the play for the Moulin Rouge or Harry Zidler and I most certainly cannot dress up like a woman. Hell, I'm not even sure I'm a Revolutionary after all.

**[Djrocky99]: **Each Bohemian's respective jaw hit the floor.

**[Doctor]: **What do you mean, maybe not "a Revolutionary after all"? Do you believe in freedom, beauty, truth, and of course, love?

**[Christian]: **Yes, yes, yes, and duh! Love is like…helium! Both love and helium do really strange things to my voice! Love is a many splintered thing! Once you get it under your skin, it's tough to get out.

**[Toulouse]: **See, you can't fool us much! You're the voice of the children of the Revolution!

**[Christian]: **Yeah, right okay. So…what's this absinthe stuff all about?

**[Toulouse]: **Christian, my lad, after your first sip, you'll never want to eat, drink, dream, or remember anything else.

**[Djrocky99]: **Christian found this very appealing, considering the events he'd faced so far. A small voice in the back of his head told him it was too early to be drinking. But then, his mind took over and told his conscience to shut the hell up. Toulouse pulled out shot glasses for each Bohemian…including one for the snoozing Narcoleptic. He threw it in his face.

The Narcoleptic awoke with a snort.

**[Christian]: **Two, please!

~=~=~

A/N: My apologies to the cast and crew…but that's the price that must be paid for entertainment! Review, if you would! =)


	4. The Sudden Obsession

Author: DJRocky99

Description: I'm a sarcastic, cynical, occasionally humorous person who enjoys making fun of other things. _Moulin Rouge _was good, but not good enough to escape my wrath…

Disclaimer: Sadly, still not my characters. If they were, you'd know it, hehe.

Chapter Three: The Sudden Obsession

Reviewers: * waves * Hello everyone! Thanks for stopping by and leaving me some love. It makes my day, truly. And as we're all well aware…my well-being is the issue at hand here! 

Rewind: When we last left Christian, he was preparing to drown his sorrows in a glass of green stuff suspiciously resembling aftershave. However, little did he know…an unexpected visitor was just about to make her grand debut in the film. 

~=~=~

**[Green Fairy]: **I'm Kylie ::hiccup:: Minogue!

**[Djrocky99]: **Christian looked up at the miniature international pop-sensation that was hovering directly above him.

**[Christian, whispering urgently]**: You're the Green Fairy!

**[Green Fairy, slurring]: **No, silly! I'm Kylie Minogue. And you're Ewan McGregor. And Sister Short-stuff over there is John Leguizamo, down on his knees. Mmm, just the way I like him…Woohoo!

**[Djrocky99]: **Christian (Ewan?) could hardly believe that Kylie had actually downed an entire bottle of after-shave. Baz had told her _before_ that there was no such thing as absinthe; but did she listen? It appeared not. And now, not only was Christian's hair appointment in jeopardy…the whole movie had gone considerably downhill.

And so, asserting the leadership skills that had earned him countless cameos, and even some lead roles in some lame, low-budget movies, Christian did the one thing he could think of:

He flicked the little green nuisance out of the window…

SPLAT!

…Christian peeled the mangled green body off of the window, opened it, and placed it gently on the windowsill, in what appeared to be a gentle bed of twigs and threads. Realizing that the gentle bed of twigs and threads was actually a vulture's nest, he quickly slammed down the window and drew the curtains shut.

**[Christian, playing it cool]: **Well that was close.

**[Toulouse, arrogantly]: **Oh smooth move, Christian. Now who's going to sing with us?

**[Christian]: **Hey, I've just remembered…aren't you supposed to have a lisp or some speech impediment or something, Toulouse? I think it said somewhere in the script that you're supposed to talk like your dentures aren't in properl—

**[Toulouse, nervously]: **Another shot, Christian?

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**[Djrocky99]: **And so, after some time…which was spent either drinking, vomiting, or awkwardly playing "Truth or Dare"…it was decided that Christian would dress in the Narcoleptic's finest attire, and attempt to avoid Zidler at all costs. Instead, the plan was to get Satine (the "Diamond in the Rough") alone. Once that happened, he would convince her that he could write the show of the Moulin Rouge. This was supposed to be accomplished by reading poetry. The only logical explanation for _why_ they agreed on this whole poetry thing, of course, was because they were all piss-faced drunk; and poetry _always_ sounds like a good idea when you're piss-faced drunk. I guess.  
  


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**[Christian, narrating]: **And so, we were off to the Mou—

**[Djrocky99]: **Forgive me if I'm out-of-line, but I'm the author and you're not. Therefore, I get to narrate. So SCRAM!

**[Christian, cowering behind one Bohemian or another**]: Yes ma'am.

**[Djrocky99]: **Yeah, that's what I thought. So anyways, they went off to the Moulin Rouge in hopes of avoiding Harry Zidler.

**[Infamous Diamond Dogs, singing]: **Voulez vous coucher avec moi? Ce soir? I'm not much of a looker, but I am still a hooker…I'm not much of a looker, but I am still a hooker!

**[Zidler]: **When you don't want to do your chores, but you'd like to drop your drawers, just undo the safety latch…trust me, there's no catch! Because you can can-can!

**[Diamond Dogs]: **Yes you can can-can! Voulez vous coucher avec moi? Ce soir?

**[Scary, ed old men clone things]: **Here we are now, entertain us! We're really creepy! And contagious!

**[Zidler]: **Don't feign being dumb, just come and have some fun! We promise not to tell…if you promise us you'll yell! Yes you can can-can!

**[Scary, ed old men clone things]: **Here we are now, entertain us! We're really creepy! And contagious!

**[Christian, shouting over the crowd with a bullhorn]: **Because it makes me forget about my disturbed childhood! And my father! Who was actually the cause of my disturbed childhood! In a way!

**[Crowd]: **Shut up!

**[Djrocky99]: **Christian sheepishly clambored down from the table he was standing on and sat down. The song continued on, perfectly fine, without him.

**[Crowd]: **Because we can, can, can, yes, because we can can can can can can can-can! 

**[Djrocky99]: **And just as suddenly as it began, the song ended. The Bohemians scoped out an appropriately lighted table in the corner of the hall. They decided it'd be safer to sit where they could keep their hands where everyone _else_ could see them. 

**[Toulouse]: **Mission accomplished! We completely managed to avoid Zidler. And look, here she comes: The Diamond in the Rough, herself.

**[Djrocky99]: **Dammit, another song already?

**[Satine, singing, and perhaps the first person in the movie to sing and sound pretty good]:**

The French truly are insane.

And so Baz Luhrman is to blame

For making me act like one.

A kiss on the hand may be quite continental

But I'd rather have an Aussie guy

A kiss may be grand but it won't pay the rent on your humble dump

At least pretend you're not a chump

Men grow cold as girls grow old

And _you_ all lose your charms in the end (not me, of course!)

But with strikingly muscular arms

Us **true** Aussies don't lose our charms

And I'd rather have an Aussie guy!

**[Djrocky99, deadpan]: **Yay. Woo. Glad that's done now. Oh no, it looks like there's trouble brewing at the table in the back corner…

**[Toulouse, to Christian]: **I've managed to set up a meeting between you can Mademoiselle Satine totally alone after her performance.

**[Djrocky99]: **As it would turn out, Christian was not going to be the only one meeting Satine that night. The Duke Who Shall Not Be Named, a man Zidler had persuaded to pump money into the Moulin Rouge's play, was also destined to have a meeting with Satine after the show.

**[Christian]**: Totally…alone?!

**[Zidler, to the Duke]:** Yes, sir Duke Who Shall Not Be Named, totally alone. 

**[The Duke…blah, blah, blah]: **Please, just call me Duke. Or if it's really important, I'll answer to "Lequisha". Don't ask, it's an old stage name.

**[Zidler, slightly alarmed]: **Okay. That's not weird at all.

**[Djrocky99]: **Oops. And just when I thought it was over.

**[Satine, breaking into song again, even though Madonna is several decades away from being born (spawned?)]: **

Cause we are living in a material world

And I am _the_ material girl!

Heath Ledger, Russell Crowe

Talk to me Harry, tell me all about them!

There may be a time when a girl needs a man

**[Zidler]: **But I'd rather have an Aussie guy

**[Satine, spoken]: **Oh Harry! I never knew…

**[Zidler]: **You mean to tell me that it wasn't obvious? I mean, come on! I couldn't be any more- if I tried. The lipstick, the powder all over the face, the sudden obsession with cross-dressers, the flaming red coat! Who was I kidding? There was no need to come out of the closet…apparently everyone but you saw me dancing on the dining room table!

**[Satine, giving him a funny look]: **Oookay.

**[Zidler, shaking his head]: **It's _so_ hard to find a quality whore in a little shantytown like this, honestly…

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A/N- Wow. Another freakishly odd chapter, I must admit. Apologies to Heath and Russell; I don't own either of them, but hopefully someday, through the advancements of cloning…never mind. More reviews means more chapters, kids, so you know…get crackin'. ;) 


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